


If There's a Reason I'm Still Alive

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2020 [16]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Detective Comics (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Detective Comics Issue 940, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Has Mental Health Issues, poor guy, tim is hallucinating in mr. oz's cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27045583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Tim opens his eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”“Doing what?” She’s tapping soundless piano notes on the metal floor now, a Beethoven piece she played for him once.“You know what.”“Would you rather be alone?”
Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Whumptober 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948297
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	If There's a Reason I'm Still Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Whump Day 16: "Hallucinations"
> 
> Takes place when Tim is in Mr. Oz's cell. Title is from "Wait for It" from Hamilton.

“You look like you could use a break.”  
  
Tim ignores the advice and keeps tinkering with his gauntlet. He holds a piece in place and reaches for the screwdriver beside his knee.   
  
“You’ve been at this for days. It won’t work.”   
  
“It’ll work,” Tim says. “It has to.”   
  
“What if it doesn’t? There’s nothing left here for you to break.” Stephanie is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to a pile of discarded junk. Old devices that have been taken apart and put back together, meshed into what were once Tim’s second, third, and fourth attempts at escape.   
  
“Go away.”   
  
“You and I both know you don’t want that.”   
  
“What I _want,”_ Tim grunts, tightening a stubborn bolt, “is to get out of here. What I _want_ is for you to shut up and let me work.”   
  
“Someone’s grouchy.”   
  
“I wonder why.”   
  
Steph hums. She scoots a little closer to grab a discarded bolt and spin it like a top. It makes no noise, which brings Tim to wonder if he’s hallucinating the bolt itself or just the action. From this close he can smell her floral shampoo. “What are you working on?”   
  
“You’re in my head, aren’t you? Figure it out yourself.”   
  
“Tell me anyway.”   
  
Tim’s hands still for only a moment. He twists two wires together. “I’m turning my gauntlet into an EMP emitter.”   
  
“So it’ll short out whatever is powering the cell door and you can escape.”   
  
“It’s almost like you’re reading my mind.”   
  
She laughs, and Tim can’t help but close his eyes and listen. It sounds so real—so much like the real Steph that if he keeps his eyes shut he can almost pretend it’s really her. That they are back home making pancakes while Stevie Wonder plays on the radio and sunlight filters in through the window. They’re together and everything is perfect.   
  
Tim opens his eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”   
  
“Doing what?” She’s tapping soundless piano notes on the metal floor now, a Beethoven piece she played for him once.   
  
“You know what.”   
  
“Would you rather be alone?”   
  
“I don’t know what I want.”   
  
“I do.” Steph stands and comes over, her hand trailing across his shoulder and he can _swear_ it’s her real flesh. She kneels in front of him. Tim keeps his eyes trained on the gauntlet between them. “You want me. You want all of us. You want to be back home, safe and sound.” She ducks her head down, forces him to meet her eyes. They’re as beautiful as he remembers. “Don’t you?”   
  
Something like a rock sticks in Tim’s throat. His voice cracks when he says, “Please. Just go away.”   
  
Stephanie looks genuinely sad when she lifts her hand to cup his cheek, wiping away a tear with her thumb. It feels real. _She_ feels real. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Misery makes its own company.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
“You should sleep,” Dick says.   
  
“What are you going to do, make me?”   
  
Stephanie left hours ago, and the funny part is that Tim never noticed when she dissipated and Dick took her place. Minutes and hours blur together until none of it matters. _Then what does that make me?_   
  
“You haven’t slept in days. It’s not healthy.”   
  
“Neither is hallucinating, but that ship has already sailed.” Tim snaps the final piece into place and grins. “Finally.”   
  
Dick watches him calibrate the EMP with pitiful eyes. He’s in his Nightwing uniform, leaning against the far wall of the cell. “It won’t work.”   
  
“Stop talking.” Tim readjusts the device, fingers flying as he flips the switches that will turn off all the surrounding systems and evoke his escape from this prison. The emitter glows, and Tim knows he’s got it.   
  
It fizzles and jerks for a moment, spitting sparks until it dies.   
  
“Shit,” Tim hisses. He bangs on the side of it, willing it to turn back on. “Shit, shit— _no.”_ He turns a knob, but nothing happens. It’s as if this place sensed his plan drained the juice right out of it.   
  
“Fuck!” With a roar, Tim throws the gauntlet against the wall where it smashes into pieces. He collapses onto his knees, pounding his fists into the metal floor until his knuckles crack. “Damn it. _Damn it.”_   
  
Dick places a hand on his shoulder. Tim doesn’t know when he even came closer from his spot against the wall. “Tim, I told you—”   
  
Tim’s head whips, eyes ablaze. _“Shut up.”_   
  
“Why can’t you give up? You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.”   
  
“I’ll find a way.”   
  
“You’ve tried everything.”   
  
“I always figure it out eventually.”   
  
Dick shakes his head, squeezing Tim’s shoulder. “I know you do. But you won’t this time.”   
  
  


* * *

  
  
“Tim.”   
  
“Go away.”   
  
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”   
  
Tim covers his ears, pressing his forehead against his knees. “Go _away.”_   
  
Bruce sighs. “You’re the one who keeps bringing us here. Deep down, you want us with you.”   
  
“Please. Leave me alone.”   
  
“We warned you about trying to escape. You knew it was pointless.”   
  
Tim’s heart pounds with every pulse of his headache. Or maybe it’s vice versa. He doesn’t know which way anything goes anymore. “I want to go home.”   
  
“They aren’t looking for you. If they were, they would have found you by now. They forgot about you.”   
  
Tim presses his palms harder against his ears, but it does nothing. He can’t escape the voices. “You’re a liar.”   
  
“Am I? Then why hasn’t anyone found you yet?”   
  
“Bruce is working on it. I know he is.”   
  
“You know as well as I do that you’ve been here too long. If he hasn’t found you by now, then it’s time to accept that maybe he isn’t looking.”   
  
“He _is.”_ Tim grits his teeth, wrapping his arms around his knees. Trying to make himself small in his corner of the cell. “He’s coming for me. He has to.”   
  
The hallucination kneels in front of Tim. His cowl is down, his eyes cold. “Face the facts, Tim. Even if the others _did_ know you were alive, they wouldn’t look for you anyway. We’re all doing fine without you. Your loss left barely a ripple in our lives.”   
  
“Be quiet. Be quiet, be _quiet.”_   
  
“We’re relieved to be rid of you.”   
  
Tim scrambles for the closest object he can find, hurling it at the hallucination. It goes right through him and smashes against the wall. “Shut up!”   
  
The imitation Bruce presses his lips together, as if stuck in a gray zone between sympathy and indifference. “It’s okay, Tim. You don’t need them anymore. You have us.”   
  
“Stop. Just stop.” Tim can’t bring himself to look at him, at Bruce’s face. “Please, just leave me alone.”   
  
Bruce sighs. “You’re already alone, Tim. But you don’t have to be.” The hallucination fades, leaving Tim by himself.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
